


Seriously?

by EonAO3



Series: Picture Perfect [10]
Category: Sebastian Stan - Fandom
Genre: Celebrity Crush, Domestic Fluff, Domestication, F/M, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Just Married, Love Stories, Married Life, Mild Language, Relationship(s), Romance, Romantic Fluff, Sebastian Stan fandom - Freeform, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 07:41:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13736268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EonAO3/pseuds/EonAO3
Summary: Newly wed and butting heads, and other things you weren’t expecting.





	Seriously?

"Not now," you sighed, nudging Beau out of the way, too over the night to deal with his overjoyed reaction at you being home again.

"You don't have to be mean to the dog," Sebastian grumbled, locking the door behind him and dropping his keys on the table near the door from a completely unnecessary height.

You flinched into your shoulders, startled by the sudden crash of the keys onto the wooden tabletop. Your eyes leveled into a glare, as you looked back over your shoulder and realized the source of the noise. Sebastian stopped, holding his arms up at his sides in a question and his expression very near daring you to say something. You shook your head, stepping out of your heels.

"I'm not being mean to the dog," you corrected.

"Just mean to me," he noted, taking off his suit coat and throwing it over the back of a chair at the dining table.

Straightening up from picking up your shoes off the floor, you turned. "Nobody is being mean to you," you insisted. "You just can't leave anyone alone."

"Leave you alone?" he scoffed, thoroughly indignant. "This whole thing was for you. How the hell am I supposed to leave you alone?"

"I didn't want to go," you reminded him.

He held out both hands, pleadingly, at you. "The party was for _youuu_ ," Sebastian pointed out. "How could you not go?"

"You should've told me so there was time to cancel it or put it off," you told him.

"Tell you about your surprise party," he sarcastically nodded. "Right. That's what I should've done."

"You're such an ass," you rolled your eyes, turning to head for the bedroom.

"Oh, so I'm the asshole here," Sebastian called after you. It was only a second later that his footsteps followed and he added, "What the hell's the matter with you anyway?"

You turned on your heel, facing Sebastian in the threshold to the bedroom as he caught up, and threw up your hands. "I'm tired!" you snapped. "Waiting in the fuckin' airport on an hour delay after 4 hours of ADR today. I could barely talk over the noise in the restaurant after that. I haven't been home in six weeks. I just wanted to come home and rest, but, no. I've got 30 minutes to change and get to upper Manhattan for a party I didn't want to be at in the first place."

"A party _because_ you haven't been home in six weeks," he reminded you and you dropped your shoes in frustration, throwing up your hands again.

"Are you even _listening_?" you begged. "Have you heard a single word?"

"I've heard every word about how you're a martyr in all 'a this," he condescendingly nodded.

"Oh, fuck you," you sneered, heading to the walk-in closet to change out of your cocktail dress.

"Fuck _you_ , you little brat," he bit back. "I swear, I've never seen anyone be so ungrateful for their friends."

You stepped back into the room, stalking across the way in your bra and panties to grab a sweatshirt and shorts out of your suitcase still on the bed. "You mean my adopted friends?" you checked, stuffing your arms into your shirt sleeves. "Everyone there was from New York. They're all your friends."

"You're my wife. They're your friends, too," he insisted. "Who do you think put this together, wanted to say you were missed and congratulate you for your award? They love you. ...As long as they never see you acting like this." Tugging your hoodie down overhead, you shot him a dirty look. "Maybe you'd have more of your own if you weren't always flying back to LA."

"I'm an actress. My work is in LA. Half my life is in LA," you reminded him, throwing an arm out in the general direction of the left coast.

"So, that means you can just shit on the other half of it that's _here_?" Sebastian spat. "Why'd you even bother coming back, if you miss it so much?"

Shorts in hand, you stopped and scowled at him. "I'm not even dignifying that with a response," you told him.

"This-" Sebastian fumed, throwing a hand up in frustration, "This _whole_ night, this entire night was for you. All people wanted was to do something nice to welcome you home and celebrate your damned CSA win. You were supposed to be home yesterday."

"Yeah, well, I didn't plan on having to go back in for ADR at the last minute," you griped. "So, excuse me having to change my travel plans. Stay today or go back next week. I can't fuckin' win either way, can I? How was I supposed to know?"

"How could anybody have known, huh?" he argued. "That's the point. But you gotta make a production out of it, instead of just appreciating the effort that people put into the night. Sorry you got called back at the last minute. Sorry your plans and your new flight got changed. Sorry we all thought you deserved a little attention."

"All I wanted to do was come home and have peace and quiet again," you plaintively said, but still very near a yell. "I'm exhausted. From this shoot, this day, my flight, all of it. I just wanted to see you and just be in the same room for five minutes and talk to you. And instead, I don't have time to unpack, I'm pushed out the door into rush hour traffic, and going half-hoarse in a crowded restaurant. I just needed to be home, to see you and...Fuck it. Never mind. I'm too tired to even try to explain anymore."

"Fine," he accepted, sounding as hatefully indifferent as one could when they were in the middle of a heated argument. "Go to sleep. Do what you've been dying to do all night." Sebastian turned for the door. "I'm taking Beau for his walk, so nobody disturbs her highness."

You growled out a breath, rolling your eyes over hard. Finally finishing getting changed, you went back to your suitcase and started picking through the contents for things you would need in the morning. Taking your toiletries to put back in their place in the bathroom, you caught sight of yourself in the mirror and gave your reflection a disgusted head shake. This was not how you expected the night to go. Unrolling your toiletries kit across the counter, you unpacked your makeup and other items, pocket by pocket. At the second to last pouch, you frowned.

Tucked inside was a set of tri-folded papers, information from the visit to your doctor at the top of the week. You'd nearly fainted on set, burdened with a layered costume, on a fake snow covered set in the sun of a cloudless sky all day. The set medic was concerned you were dehydrated. Your private physician was able to squeeze you in for a precautionary exam the next day and delivered the news. Unfolding the papers and giving them a quick once over, you shook your head. You still couldn't believe you were pregnant. 

You folded the papers again, hiding them away in one of the pockets of your travel case. All you wanted to do was come home to your quiet apartment and tell your barely four months wed husband he was going to be a father. You thought maybe the two of you could go out to a nice dinner and maybe you'd tell him over dessert. Maybe you'd just stay in and order delivery so you had some privacy. But your last minute work day and delayed travel arrangements had worn you out. In fact, for the last couple of weeks, you were inexplicably tired. Well, you knew now why you were feeling so rundown. 

When you'd walked in the door you were a little nervous, not knowing for sure how to share the news or how he might take to the unplanned addition to the cast. Hurrying through your hellos as he sent you off to the bedroom to change and told you about the night planned for you, you were completely thrown off balance. You were rushed and flustered, racing the clock to be at your surprise 'welcome home' party. Deep down, you knew they meant well. You were flattered for their interest and congratulations for your Canadian Screen Award for Best Supporting Actress. Sure, it wasn't an Oscar, but it was your first statuette and a role, and accomplishment, you were proud of. That your friends, and you know they _are_ your friends too, were proud of your little award and had missed you was actually quite endearing. 

But you felt awkward and rude for refusing the champagne they'd ordered and cocktails they offered as part of your celebration. You hoped they bought your excuse of being dehydrated from work and your traveling. They would understand later. You certainly weren't going to tell them the real reason why you weren't drinking tonight. That was a reason you wanted Sebastian to be the first person to hear. That was a private moment.

A moment you were now doubting would come anytime soon. You'd been called out by several people about 'not having any fun' for sipping water and soda all night and took the fair share of ribbing it got you. It put you on the defensive and the jokes, even though you knew they had no ill will behind them, wore your patience a little thin. You'd been on your feet and on the go most of the day, which only compounded your exhaustion. On the car ride home, Sebastian had tried to needle an explanation out of you for you increasingly distracted and almost grumpy behavior as the night had wore on. You weren't about to have the discussion of your pregnancy in front of a New York City cab driver and tried to dance around his questions by telling him you were just tired. You knew he only pressed the issue out of concern, but his persistence, compounded with your tiredness, nervousness, a bit of nausea, and diminishing patience made something in you snap and you'd bit at him, saying, "Enough with the Inquisition, okay? I'm tired, alright? I just want to get home from this damned party and go to bed."

Naturally, it had all gone down hill from there. And now you were alone, standing in the bathroom very near tears, and regretting ever opening your damned mouth. This was it- you're first big fight. And it was ugly. But then, you really couldn't expect it wouldn't be, with a high energy guy like Sebastian. He wore his heart on his sleeve every day. Of course he wouldn't shy away from you, or your shit, and give it right back to you.

 _Dammit_. You finished putting away your toothbrush and other essentials and went back to your room. You closed up your suitcase and put it aside to deal with tomorrow. With a sigh, you trudged off to the kitchen. Your stomach was still a little upset. You couldn't tell if it was from the fight or one of the less desirable perks of pregnancy, but you hoped there were some crackers or something in the kitchen to help calm your belly.

You were disappointed to not find any saltines, like you wanted, but there was some lemon-lime soda in the fridge and bread to make some toast. You put a thin smear of jelly on the toasted bread, because you're not a Neanderthal and hate dry toast. You sat up on the counter, feet crossed at your ankles with a piece of your toast in one hand and a can of Sprite beside you. You rolled your eyes as you chewed, unhappy to still be awake when the front door opened. A moment later, Beau pranced into the kitchen and wiggled in front of you, before realizing you had food and stared up longingly at your toast.

You gave him an impatient look that said he had to earn it and he immediately sat. You tore off a relatively bare corner of your toast and daintily tossed it into his snapping jaws, smiling proudly at his catch and his tail sweeping the floor in happiness. Still paying attention to the dog, only your eyes followed Sebastian, as he came into the kitchen, rolling up the sleeves of his button down, and took a bottle of water from the refrigerator. From the corner of your eye, you saw the stutter in his step as he caught you dropping a torn off piece of crust to Beau. The thin piece of bread fell awkwardly and bounced off the dog's nose to the floor. As soon as Beau finished his scramble to recover his prize, he was back to his obedient and patient sit. 

"Fuckin' dog whisperer," Sebastian half-grumbled, shaking his head down at Beau. "You don't even talk and he listens to you."

You finally looked up to acknowledge him in the room, giving him a small shrug in reply. Beau was equal parts yours and Sebastian's. He loved the rough housing with his master, but gave his best and dutiful behavior naturally to you. Always trying to impress the girls, Sebastian would say. You looked back to Beau and shook your head to tell him he wasn't getting anymore scraps. Beau slid down to the floor with a contented harrumph and you went back to your snack, taking a sip of soda. Sebastian was still there, shoulder leaned into the wall and the toe of his shoe pointed into the floor.

He broke the silence, asking, "What? You sick or somethin'?"

"My stomach's a little upset," you softly admitted. 

Sebastian didn't reply and you took a bite of your toast, pinching a couple crumbs from your lap to reach over and drop in the sink. You chewed and he piped up a few moments later, wondering, "We got any crackers?"

"No," you swallowed, tearing the last of your toast into two bite-sized pieces. "I made toast."

"You want me to go out and get you something?" he asked, the anger from your argument still there, but reigned in enough to almost sound like a kind offer.

"No." You shook your head and added a reluctant, "Thank you." The fight was still with you, too.

From the other side of the kitchen you heard him sigh, followed by his footfall, as he took a few steps to stand in front of you. Sebastian put his drink down by yours, drying his fingers down the leg of his suit pants before laying his hands on the tops of your thighs. He nudged a knee at your ankles to get you to move and inched in to stand between your knees in front of the counter. Your head was still turned down, as you finished your toast and planted your hands into the counter, your shoulders rising with your straightened arms to shelter you a bit. He ducked to touch his forehead to yours, pushing gently against it to raise your head up to see him. He took a breath and it seemed to reset the tone of his voice when he spoke.

"I'm sorry," he told you, and you finally turned your eyes up to his. "Beau and I were talking, and we thought maybe you really were just tired."

"Been a rough week," you halfheartedly explained and shrugged.

"I know," he nodded. "Last minute changes and a late flight. I get it. You worked hard on this one.” His tone lifted a bit, offering, “Can't wait to see it."

You snorted quietly. "Thanks."

"I shoulda told you about the party when you said you had to stay one more day," he conceded. "I didn't think it'd be a problem. Didn't think you'd get delayed at the airport like that."

"That's okay," you said. "It was a nice party. I appreciate it."

"Those _are_ your friends, you know," he earnestly reminded you. "Everybody loves you."

"I do," you promised. "I know and I love them, too. I'm sorry."

His hands gave you a light squeeze and your head dropped, more than a little ashamed of letting your behavior and temper get away from you. He set his forehead down to yours again, the thumb of his right hand slowly smoothing back and forth over your leg.

"What I said about you making friends," he began, "and about coming home- That was out of line. I know it's hard with all the back and forth and location work. That was mean and I don't know why I said it. I didn't mean it. I'm glad you came home."

You gave a gentle nod, small enough to barely disturb his head on yours. "I'm sorry," you told him, again. "I just wanted to come home and see you. I wasn't expecting all of that. I just really needed to have some time with you. I missed you."

His arms came up to wrap around your shoulders. "I missed you, too."

You buried your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the warm scent of his cologne on his clothes and skin, hands balling up small fistfuls of his shirt at his sides and feet hooked behind his knees. You both stayed there for a long moment. When Sebastian finally straightened up again, he pecked a kiss to the tip of your nose and his hands went back to their spots on your legs. His eyes ran over your face and hair, seeming to take in a sight he'd been missing.

"It's okay," he said, giving you a kind, lopsided smile. Sebastian pushed the hair back behind you ear and told you, "Why don't you go to bed. Maybe you'll feel better in the morning."

You snorted under the kiss he put on your forehead. "I'm kinda awake now...after that."

He chuckled, with a knowing nod. "Yeah. That'll happen." Sebastian's gaze tipped down to his hands in your lap. "That was, um, our first real fight, huh?"

You nodded, your hands letting go of his shirt to rest over his hands. "Yeah," you shyly agreed.

"Yeah, I don't like that," he decided, his head tipping to one side as he gave you a thoughtful squint and shake of his head. 

"Me either," you smiled. 

"Come on," he said, inclining his head to the other room. "Let's go sit down. You can finish your drink an' tell me about the shoot."

You slid down off the counter and followed him to the living room. Sebastian took a seat on the couch and, when you sat down next to him, he patted a hand on his thigh to invite you to stretch out. You twisted, picking up your feet to lay over his lap. Sebastian took your foot and started to rub as you settled into the pillow at the end of the couch. 

"So, what happened that made you have a bad week?" Sebastian asked, eyes on your foot as he worked.

You felt the lump building in your throat and your pulse come up with your nerves again. "It wasn't exactly bad," you stalled, trying to figure out what to say. You weren't ready for this now. 

"Then what was it?"

"Different?" you suggested. "Surprising."

"Oh, yeah?"

"We were outside on Monday," you started your roundabout explanation. "This part's supposed to be in winter, right? So, me and John are bundled up in these winter coats standing in the sun all day, and I nearly fainted."

Sebastian threw a quick, but concerned, look at you before he started to massage your other foot. "You fainted?" he worried. 

"No," you shook your head. "I _almost_ did. We took a break and the set medic checked me out. He thought I might be dehydrated or a little overcome with the heat, so they sent me home for the night."

"That's a little scary," he noted. 

"I slept it off," you went on. "I managed to get in with my doctor the next morning."

"What'd he say?" Sebastian casually asked, still rubbing your foot.

You bit your lip and swallowed, finding the nerve to say, "That I'm pregnant."

Sebastian froze, his eyes the only thing about him that moved, rising from your feet to stare blankly across the room. He seemed to remember to breathe and made a small cough through his slowly gaping mouth, as he turned his head to see you. You shrank a bit into your shoulders, your thumbnail held nervously between your teeth and a slight wince on your face, as you waited for whatever would happen next to happen. 

"You're what?" he checked, the question a little flat and unsure. 

You warily nodded. "Pregnant."

"Seriously?...You- How ca-" he floundered, turning to look across the room helplessly and then back to you. "How? You've been gone for-"

"Six weeks," you finished for him, thinking he might need the help to finish the thought. "I'm about 7 weeks along." The look on his face still read surprised confusion and you added, "Had to have been right before I left. I'm _pretty_ sure it was the night of Sarah's birthday party, or maybe that Sunday, since I flew out on Monday. Now that I'm home, I can get an appointment for an ultrasound to help narrow it down, but the possibilities are so close together I don't think it makes much difference really."

"Holy shit," he breathed out, running a hand through his hair. Sebastian's brow rose up his forehead at the realization and he looked back at you. "Holy shit."

You snickered, still biting at your nail and trying to gauge his reaction. "So...what do you think?"

"What do I think?" he repeated, still stunned. "We're having a baby..." He shook his head, a hint of a smile barely curling the corner of his mouth. " _We_ , you and me...are having a baby?"

"Uh-huh," you nodded, unable to keep your relief and amusement from showing on your face for the awe-filled smile that came to his. 

Sebastian stretched over, bending down and twisting to lie with you on the couch and your knees bent over his legs. His head reached your shoulder, the way he leaned over, as he slipped his arms underneath you and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. He breathed out another profanity and you giggled quietly, combing your fingers through the back of his hair. 

Sebastian turned, putting a lingering kiss into the curve of your neck. "Holy shit, baby," he said, leaning up to look you in the eyes, with the absolute adoration you hadn't seen since he saw you walk down the aisle. "We're having a baby," he repeated, with a loving smile.


End file.
